The Cursed Kingdom

FORTY

~ THE INNOCENT ~

Every single lightbulb in the palace—all thirty thousand of them—had been turned off before the servants left, encasing the entire palace with a layer of darkness that seeped past the surface and through every floorboard, every golden decoration, and into my very being, weighing me down with each step that swept me farther away from Henrik's bedroom.

Without the servants' traffic and chatter to give the hallways a bit of life and no source of light except for the moon herself, who, even shining brightly through every window, felt like the single darkest being in the entire universe, the palace was turned into a house of nightmares. Things born out of fear, hatred, and deceit crept behind every swirl in the wallpapers and crouched low in the shadows, waiting giddily like school children anticipating their turn on a swing.

I could feel their eyes on me—could hear them in every shallow breath that escaped my parted lips and the screeches and howls of Lycans that got louder as I descended the stairs, the promise of something unpleasant awaiting me. Sometimes I even swore I saw the outline of a person or two reaching out for me, the details of their fingers so real that I felt as if I could've drawn them from memory. But every time I dared to steal a peek, there was nothing there except more impenetrable blackness—more demons.

Since it allowed me enough light to descend the stairs without much trouble, except for my one tiny stumble into a banister on the second floor's landing, I realized as I stepped onto the first floor, that I was perhaps the victim to the moon's kindest act ever. But the thought vanished when I looked to my left and saw Henrik and I's portrait that was between the two helical staircases, the moonlight and shadows working together so that the light only hit Henrik's form, leaving me completely in the dark.

How typical, I thought, my mark giving a pulse of agreement.

Giving the moon and our faces one last fleeting glance, I continued as I had been before with my pace remaining quick yet not rushed, both hesitant and anxious, and my ears straining to listen to the sound of my boots clicking against the marble floors instead of the heart that pounded against my ribs.

Go back, the organ begged, but my stubbornness and curiosity muffled out its desires until all I could focus on was the path ahead of me, which was unnervingly the exact same as the one the demon had shown me with not a single detail of the hallways out of place.

Whether or not I wanted its destination to be just as accurate, I hadn't fully figured out because no matter what, I knew the reality of the outcome would absolutely devastate me. However, in spite of my anxiety towards the unknown and my love for Henrik and the desire to trust his word, I knew that I needed to discover the truth and experience it for myself so that no room would be left for uncertainty that could give someone the opportunity to deceive me.

Only then could I move on with my life.

Only then could I figure out what it would require for me to be happy—and what I would need to let go of.

After turning a short corner, I entered a familiar hallway that had nostalgia ringing my insides like an old rag and leaving behind a distasteful burn. The only times I ever passed through this section of the palace was when Ingrid arrived or departed in her small carriage and enter through the side door because she claimed the front was too much of a haste. The sight of its wallpaper and floors had a lump forming in my throat, my eyes finding the familiar unsigned paintings that I always admired.